Grasping for Ashes
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: After the apocalypse, Finn, Tina, Puck, and Quinn's daughter are left wandering across the barren landscape, with nothing to hold onto but survival. And they'll do whatever it takes.
1. Chapter 1

**PLEASE READ: **This story was inspired by _The Road_ by Cormac McCarthy, so I guess it's a crossover of sorts, but none of the history from the book applies other than the fact that America is now a burned and barren wasteland of ash. In honor of McCarthy's work, I will not use quotations when a character is speaking - once you get into the swing of it, it's really easy to tell the narrative from the dialogue, though. I think that's it for now. Please enjoy, and, of course, leave a review.

* * *

It was raining. Not the dramatic rain complete with thunder and lightning, but quiet, grey rain. Just enough to leave you damp and cold and miserable, and unable to start a fire. The man shivered and pulled his army jacket tighter around his body, pushing himself further into the meager shelter of the fallen tree trunk. He had decided to stay the night in the small hollow between the grey earth and the soft rotting wood when it had started to rain earlier on in the afternoon, so now he was huddled in a feeble attempt to conserve what little heat his starving body was generating. From where he lay, he couldn't see the road, winding through the grey landscape down a steep embankment on the other side of the tree trunk.

The man's face was half-covered by a scraggly brownish beard, one that hadn't been trimmed in a couple of years, at least, and his eyes were hazel, framed beneath by deep sunken shadows. His nails were short only because he'd developed a habit of biting them years ago, and they were caked with dirt. His skin was chapped and peeling from the cold; his lips cracked and bleeding a little. He would have grimaced at his own smell, but he'd grown so used to it that he only noticed how strong the odor was when he purposely thought about it.

Yellowed teeth clattering, he pulled his hood up over his head and tucked his arms closer to his torso, comforted by the feel of the small shotgun strapped behind his back. The gun wouldn't be seen by anybody who might approach him while he was sleeping, and gave him an upper hand that was beyond priceless these days. He'd forgotten where he'd acquired the gun, it was so long ago. How many days had he been on the move through this charred silent wasteland? How many summers? Winters? Years? He'd lost track.

He'd had someone with him, a long time ago, but he could barely remember his face. Partners, they'd been. Watching each other's backs. His name… the man couldn't remember. If he tried real hard, the man could scarcely recall a ghost of a memory, sitting by a tiny fire with his partner and staring up at the ashen dusk.

The man closed his eyes and slept fitfully.

* * *

When he awoke, there was sound. It wasn't much, just the soft noises produced by worn shoes on cracked pavement in the near distance, but it was enough to waken the man. He scrambled out from his sleeping place and peered over the tree trunk that had given him shelter; far below, on the grey outline of the road, were people. Three of them.

The man felt his heart race and he swallowed, ignoring the empty moan of his stomach as he crept through the trees, following the tiny group with his gun gripped in his hands in anticipation. He couldn't recall the last time he ate. Four days ago? Didn't matter. He pushed all thoughts of food out of his mind as he drew close enough for him to observe the strangers, but stayed far enough away for them not to hear his ragged, torn boots on the still-damp leaves. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the weak grey glow of the sun. (It wasn't really necessary, just a very old habit.)

He frowned, studying. These strangers were not one of the groups of bandits he'd encountered every so often while on the road. One of them was small, a child. The other two were adults, one male, one female. He couldn't tell the sex of the small one.

But bandits or not, he still had to be cautious.

He kept his gun at the ready as he followed them, his movements animalistic.

* * *

Night came and went, and the man still followed the strangers. He didn't think he'd seen another person in the last several months, at least, but he had no way of knowing for sure. It rained again, making it easier to disguise the sounds of his feet. Once, the man had snapped a twig underfoot, and the tallest member of the strange trio had looked up, watching, stock-still. The man had stayed frozen in place until the stranger finally turned and continued with his companions.

Now, it was evening, almost dark. The man was crouched beside a boulder a safe distance from the strangers' fire, watching the glow with eyes half-curious, half-envious. Eventually, he laid down in the dead, ash-covered leaves, closing his eyes.

What woke him up was not the sound of the strangers stirring before moving on, but a short series of sliding clicks as the hammer of a revolver was pulled back, ready to fire. His eyes flew open, pupils dilating. The tallest stranger stood over him, a towering shadow without a face. The nose of the revolver glinted in the morning light, aimed directly between the man's eyes.

What—what do you want? he asked, his hands held up, his voice gravelly.

Who are you?

Nobody. I'm nobody, I swear.

Why are you following us?

Followin' you?

Following us! the stranger shouted, jabbing at the air with the gun.

I'm not followin' you, the man promised, his voice cracking from lack of use.

The stranger's eyes narrowed, and he knelt onto one skinny knee in the dirt, letting the man get a look at his face. The stranger wasn't any better off than he was – sunken cheeks and eyes, greyed skin, dirty hair and clothes, stained teeth. Skeletal. A suspicious glint in his eyes that showed he trusted no one but himself and his. The stranger leaned in close, the gun hovering dangerously in the air mere inches from the man's nose. He spoke in a low undertone.

You so much as _look_, he said slowly, at _any_ of us the wrong way… and I will kill you.

The man nodded hastily. The stranger stood back up, turning to go back down the hill to his companions. Before the stranger could disappear, the man pulled himself to his feet and in one fluid movement whipped his shotgun up to aim at the stranger's retreating back.

Stop! Or I'll shoot!

The stranger halted, turning around to face the man again, his eyes flashing in the shadow of his hood.

Food, the man said, glancing down the hill to where woman and child huddle together in the early morning chill. You have food.

No, we don't.

You're lyin'.

The stranger then took a step forward, his expression melting into shock and amazement. What's your name? he asked.

None o' your damn business.

I'll give you food if you tell me your name.

The man didn't lower the shotgun. Food first, he said.

Okay. Come on.

The woman and the child pulled closer together when they saw the man, who kept his gun at the ready, though it was no longer aimed at the stranger. The child was a girl, with stringy blond hair tangled and filled with dirt. The woman had almond-shaped eyes, her hair hidden by a faded green wool knit cap pulled low over her brow.

Who is that? the woman snapped. Why is he here?

The stranger didn't answer. He dug around in a bag that the man had seen him carrying over the past two days, pulling out a small tin. It's not much, he said. It's all I can give you.

What are you doing? the woman shrieked.

Daddy? said the child.

It's okay, Summer, the stranger told her. Don't worry.

The man took the tin from the stranger and hungrily swallowed what was left in it, only three small bites' worth of an unidentifiable substance that was probably supposed to be refried beans.

What's your name?

Ain't important.

It is to me.

Why? We know each other?

Maybe.

The man narrowed his eyes.

Your name is Noah, the stranger said.

What?

Isn't it?

The man's voice faded to a whisper. How the hell'd you know that?

Don't you remember me? Don't you remember us?

The man looked at the woman, who looked just as confused. What are you doing, Finn? What are you talking about? she demanded of her companion.

Finn?

The man's eyes widened, his jaw fell. The strangers' hollowed faces suddenly fit into a distant memory so old it felt like nothing more than a dream.

Oh my God.


	2. Chapter 2

Noah had been alone for so, so long. He sat huddled by the fire, staring. Finn was also awake, but just barely. Tina was asleep, Summer curled up in her arms. He looked over and watched the little girl sleep.

Where's her mom? Noah asked Finn.

Dead.

Noah wasn't surprised. Quinn had been strong, but not that strong. He lay down, shivering.

I'm sorry, said Finn.

What for?

She's yours. I'm sorry she calls me Daddy.

She's not mine. She never was.

Are you sure?

Yeah. Don't tell her I'm her dad.

I wasn't going to.

* * *

They found a house in the woods about half a mile from the road; Noah had spotted the roof showing between the trees far up the hill, and it had been miraculously untouched. The cupboards were stocked with canned goods, there was dry firewood in the shed, a real hearth with a chimney. Tina had scouted the upstairs, and returned saying, Well, the owners never left. Don't let Summer go up there.

They decided they would stay for a couple days, at least. Noah had built a fire while Tina sat with Summer, pulling the tangles out of the little girl's hair while Finn prepared a feast of canned pears and corn, boiling the corn in a pot over the hearth. Noah went upstairs and found an aged bottle of shampoo, half-full and mostly dry, but they mixed it with water from Finn's bottle and washed their hair in a metal tub Finn found in the shed. Then they'd taken turns undressing and scrubbing their bodies as clean as they could get them, standing naked and shivering in the tub by the fire. Noah wrapped himself in a blanket and sat close to the hearth with Summer. When he saw her teeth chattering, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping the blanket around her too.

Are you like the Noah from the story? she asked him.

There's lots of stories. What one are you talkin' about?

The one about the boat. And the animals.

Noah and the Ark?

Yeah.

I don't know. Do you think I'm like him?

I don't know.

Okay.

What about me?

What about you?

What does my name mean?

He smiled. It means warmth, and the sun, and good days.

Okay.

Just okay?

Yeah.

You warm enough?

Yeah.

Okay.

* * *

In the morning, Tina found a stack of paper in the study. Look, Summer, she exclaimed. Watch. She folded the paper again and again until it took on a three-dimensional shape; she slid her fingers up into it and it opened and closed like the mouth of a baby bird begging for a full stomach.

What is it? Summer asked, lifting it from Tina's hands.

It's a fortune teller. It tells the future.

How does it work?

You write things that could happen under these flaps, here, and numbers on these parts, here, and colors on the outside squares…

Summer frowned as the explanation unfolded. It doesn't really tell the future, does it? she asked, looking down at the paper object she held in her hands.

Tina sighed. No.

Summer nodded. Later, they threw it in the fire, watching the flames flare up as the paper curled and blackened.

* * *

It was morning, and Finn and Noah were moving stacks of firewood from the shed to the house.

We can't have a fire during the day, said Finn.

Why not? It's cold.

People will see the smoke.

There's no people.

There might be.

Okay.

We don't want people to take the food.

I know.

* * *

Noah was cutting open a can of tomatoes while Tina watched him. Summer was asleep in her arms. The grey light that shone through the blanket of ash outside was fading into a bleak dusk.

Were you alone from the start? Tina asked.

You mean since it happened?

Yeah.

No.

Who was with you?

One of the guys we knew in school.

Who?

I don't remember his name. He looked kind of like you.

What happened?

Bandits. I was faster than him.

Tina shuddered, her arms tightening protectively around Summer's scrawny body. These days, bandit meant hunter, and humans were fair game.

Rachel was with us in the beginning, she said.

Really?

Yeah.

What happened?

I don't know. She was just gone.

She left?

I don't know.

* * *

They vacated the house early the next morning. Finn had grabbed five pillowcases from upstairs and used them as sacks, filling them with cans upon cans from the kitchen, taking all that would fit. Then he and Noah each slung two over their shoulders, Tina took one, and Summer carried Finn's bag.

Just before the house was out of their sight, Summer stopped, looking back. Daddy, why do we have to leave?

Because we have to keep going, said Finn.

But why?

We have to go south.

Why?

It's warm there.

How do you know?

I just do.

How far is it?

I don't know.

Are we going the right way?

Yes.

How do you know?

The sun.

You can't see the sun.

But it gets light in the east first.

You can't see the sun.


	3. Chapter 3

Finn had kept a hatchet that he'd found in the shed of the house where they'd stayed and he now carried it in his belt. It came in use whenever they needed to chop firewood every night, but could also be used as a weapon should the need ever come. And, one afternoon a week after they left the house, the need did come.

The bandits were a rugged lot; scruffy, skinny, mangy. A permanent growl etched into their faces. They carried weapons that ranged from metal baseball bats to 12-gauge rifles, one or two of them swinging deadly chains from their fingers like whips.

When Noah had spotted the small mob – about six men – he had immediately ushered Tina into the woods near the road, crouching down behind a pile of old fallen trees. Finn had snatched up Summer and followed. They lie waiting for the bandits to pass, none of them daring to make a sound. Summer was held tightly in Tina's arms while Noah and Finn both drew their guns, Finn holding the hatchet tightly in his other hand. Their hearts skipped a beat when they heard one of the bandits claim he had to take a piss. He wandered off the cracked asphalt, unzipping and carelessly letting out a stream of stinking liquid that steamed when it hit the frozen ground.

Summer let out a whimper, and the bandit stopped, taking a pistol out of his belt. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, sniffing. He took a few steps forward.

When he saw them, he grinned. Well, lookee what we got here.

Finn cocked his gun.

I don't want any trouble, said the bandit, smiling with grey teeth. He didn't put the pistol away. He peered closer until he had a view of all four of them. Well, you folks are a regular family. That lil girl looks hungry.

Don't look at her, Finn snarled, his revolver aiming for the bandit's forehead. You look at me. No one else.

The bandit held up his hands. Okay, okay.

You look at her again and I'll kill you.

I heard you the first time.

Turn around and go back to your friends. Don't come back. You all keep walking.

Hey, I don't want any trouble.

Sure you don't.

The bandit narrowed his eyes at the two men, evaluating. Okay, he said. He lifted his pistol and a loud _crack_ roared through the woods. The wood next to Tina's head exploded. Summer screamed, and Finn and Noah simultaneously fired back. The bandit ducked for cover, but not fast enough as the shot from Noah's gun caught him in the thigh. He screamed and fell. The other five bandits ran up the hill, taking out their guns, their clubs, their knives and chains. Finn shot one of them in the head, Noah got another in the chest, and they fell where they stood. One of the remaining bandits jumped down and grabbed Tina by the neck, making her lose her grip on Summer. She shrieked and clawed and kicked at him, but then he pulled out a knife and she froze. Noah aimed his gun for her attacker, but suddenly a chain dropped into his vision and he was yanked back as it tightened around his neck. He dropped his gun, gasping for air as the cold metal bit into his skin, and Finn laid the sharp side of the hatchet against the chainman's neck while aiming his revolver at the man who had a hold on Tina.

Let them go.

Then the nose of the rifle belonging to the third bandit pressed into Finn's temple. Arms up, he ordered. Both of them. Now.

Finn didn't move. He looked down at Summer, who was curled up on the ground, crying and waiting for him to do…something. Anything. Whatever was necessary.

Daddy, she cried, her face grimy and smudged with dirt and ash and tears.

If Tina had blinked, she would not have seen Finn's pistol arm whip back and knock the rifle out of the hands of the third bandit before he spun around and embedded the hatchet in the side of the bandit's skull. Noah's captor lifted the chain, leaving Noah to collapse on the ground, coughing and gasping for air. The chainman swung the chain towards Finn's head, whipping him upside the ear. Finn let out a yell as a spurt of blood wound its way down his neck. Noah pulled himself to his feet, grabbing his gun and slamming the butt into the back of the chainman's head with a wet-sounding crack. The chainman fell and didn't get up. Noah turned and pointed the gun at Tina's attacker.

Get your hands off her.

The last bandit raised his hands, taking the knife away from Tina's throat. Okay, okay. Calm down.

Don't tell me to calm down.

Okay.

You turn around and walk away.

Okay.

Any more buddies of yours down the road? Noah kicked the leg of the chainman for emphasis.

No.

You lyin'?

No.

Okay. Go. Start walkin'.

The bandit stumbled down the hill and the four of them waited until they couldn't see him any more before speaking. Tina dropped to her knees beside Finn, who was clutching his ear.

Are you all right?

It's just a scratch.

Noah knelt next to her, gently prying Finn's blood-covered fingers away. Let me see.

Finn hissed in pain. I think the guy sharpened the damn thing, he said, wincing.

Who the hell sharpens a chain? Noah asked, inspecting the wounded ear as Tina stood and went to Summer.

I don't know, that's just what it felt like.

The rounded flesh of his ear had been ripped about a quarter of an inch from the edge toward the hole, like a dog's ear coming out of a fight. Man, I don't think that thing's gonna go back together, Noah said, pressing his dirty sleeve against the tear to mop up some of the blood.

How bad is it?

You'll be okay.

Okay.

Finn stood up, a little dizzy, and went to retrieve the hatchet. Don't look, Summer, he said. A solid tug allowed the head of the axe to come free of the chainman's skull, and before Summer could see, Finn quickly wiped off the bit of all the blood and brain matter it had retained. He slid it back into his belt.

Daddy?

Yeah?

You're bleeding.

I'm okay. Are you?

Yeah.

Okay. Let's keep going.

* * *

That night, Summer slept in Finn's arms while Noah and Tina huddled together for warmth. It was too soon after the attack to light a fire, and every noise could be a starving bandit lying in wait.

Daddy? Summer asked in the still of the night, after Noah and Tina had drifted into a fitful slumber.

What is it?

Why did those men attack us?

Lots of reasons, probably. They were scared.

And hungry?

And hungry.

Were they going to eat us?

Finn held her tiny body closer to his chest. Maybe. I don't know.

Will we ever have to eat someone?

No, we won't.

You promise?

I promise.

How long until we get South?

I don't know.

Are we close?

Closer than where we were when we started.

That's not an answer.

He smiled into her hair. You sound like your mom.

* * *

A/N: Please leave a review and let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

When the first shot ripped through the air, Finn picked up Summer and started running, Noah and Tina close on his heels as Noah realized it had been a mistake to let the last bandit go the day before. Behind them and closing in was a group of a dozen more men, a pack, some armed with shotguns and some with more rudimentary weapons. Over the sound of their running feet, Noah heard the sinister jangling of chains, the hiss of more than one knife. Summer screamed as a bullet whistled past her ear. Tina yelped as her ankle twisted and she fell, scraping her hands on the pavement. Noah stopped and pulled her back up as the pack gained distance, holding her around the waist and trying to help her run, but she weighed him down and they couldn't pick up speed. Finn turned back, but Noah yelled, Go! Take Summer and go! And within seconds, the pack had surrounded them.

Looks like we got ourselves a couple of lovebirds! jeered one.

Where'd your friend go? called another. He leave ya behind?

A tall man with scraggly, dirty blond hair reached forward and stroked Tina's cheek. She's pretty, he snickered. Noah pulled Tina back and smacked the man across the nose, hard. Don't touch her! he snarled.

The man laughed, rubbing his nose. That all ya got? It's the end of the world, man, you gotta share what's yours. His eyes ran hungrily over Tina's body.

Don't touch her, Noah said again.

They were herded back along the road for half a mile, to a house that looked deserted and run-down, sagging beside the road. Noah and Tina were shoved through the front door and down a hallway that was missing several floorboards, until they reached the cellar door. It took the strength of three men to separate them as Noah kicked and punched and Tina bit and scratched, and Tina was pulled aside as the blond man grinned and said, She's gonna stay up here for a little while. Then, before Noah could do anything, the cellar door was opened and he was kicked hard in the chest, sending him to tumble down the stairs, landing hard on a cold concrete floor in the earth. He pulled himself back to his feet and clambered back up the steps, pounding on the locked door with all his might, screaming Tina's name again and again. After a few minutes, her screams began to echo back, making him pound with all the more force. He yelled until there was silence on the other side.

He stood for several moments, breathing hard, his eyes wild, staring at the door that stood firm. A scuffle from below made him turn and go back down the stairs, his footfalls heavy and exhausted. When he reached the floor, he froze. He was surrounded by skeletons. Four, five, six of them. Their skin stretched over their bones, a couple of them naked, breathing shallowly and barely registering his presence. There were men, women. A child.

What is this place? he asked aloud, his voice trembling.

A man curled up in the corner opened his eyes halfway, a smile passing over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. This is a farm, he said in delirium. Then he giggled, his eyes closing again. And we are the cattle.

Noah edged closer, hands shaking. The man only wore a ragged and torn ancient pair of jeans that were far too wide for his waist, his body reduced to nothing but bone. How long have you been here? Noah asked.

The man's eyes fluttered open again, a startling blue in contrast with his dirtied skin and hair caked with oil and earth. Days. Weeks, maybe. Who's to say? He giggled again, then squinted at Noah in the dim light of the cellar, his eyes struggling to focus. You have blood on your lip.

Noah wiped his mouth, tasting copper and iron. He must have been punched in the teeth at some point during the fight. What about my friend? he asked, trying to keep the man awake. Will she be okay?

The man's gaze drifted towards the stairs to freedom. He smiled. It's like a fairy tale, he said. Gingerbread house.

Noah's hands shook harder. The next time he looked, the man seemed to have fallen asleep without closing his eyes all the way, but then he blinked and spoke again. Sometimes we can hear them. Up there. They have a big banquet. Your friend, she - she's going to have herself one hell of a feast. He collapsed into a fit of laughter until he had no more air in his lungs and there were tears coursing down his face. You're not real, he said, his ribs shuddering beneath the thin layer of skin.

Yes, I am, Noah whispered, his heart racing.

The man twisted his fingers into his matted hair, chuckling. Nope. You are figment of my imagination, conjured up as the time draws near. Haha, hear that? Conjured up as the time draws near. I'm a goddamn poet, Noah. I'm a fucking Shakespeare.

Noah flinched when the man said his name. Who are you?

Me? I'm a cow, didn't I tell you? This is a farm and we are the cattle.

Who are you?

You ought to learn to listen, Noah. You're cattle now, too. Might as well pay attention.

I am not goddamn cattle. Tell me who you are.

The man was silent for a moment. Noah studied him, his breathing loud and heavy. Oh, God, he sighed. Kurt. I didn't recognize you.

Kurt smiled airily. My hair's grown out.

* * *

Hours passed before the door opened and a limp body was tossed down the steps, limbs flailing like a rag doll. Noah jumped up and pulled Tina into his lap, shaking her lightly and begging her to wake up. She was naked, and there were bruises across her face, her arms, her legs, her chest. There was blood smeared from between her legs, and a tiny trickle of it coming out of her nose. Noah shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her, cradling her. Her fingers trailed on the ground, but Noah could feel her ribs expanding as she breathed, so he held her and prayed that none of her bones were broken. Eventually, he settled himself so that he was leaning back against the wall with Tina still unconscious in his arms.

Gretel's been pulled out of the oven, he heard Kurt say.

Stay away from her, Noah said, his arms tightening around her protectively.

Kurt frowned in confusion and retreated back to his corner. Noah absentmindedly ran his fingers through the ends of Tina's hair. Finn would come back for them. He would. He had to.

* * *

In the morning, the door slammed open and a man stomped down the steps, grinning when he saw Noah still holding Tina.

Morning, sunshine. How's your girlfriend?

You come near her again and I'll kill you and all your friends.

The man laughed. Relax, I'm not here for that. He turned around and snatched another woman by the arm, hauling her to her feet. She had been without food for so long that her eyes barely opened as she was dragged up the steps. The lock on the door clicked shut, and all was silent.

They come down every couple of days, said Kurt, almost to himself. She'll last them for that long.

Noah didn't respond. He didn't want to think about that. After a while, a smell drifted down from upstairs, a strong odor that reminded him of summer barbecues all those years ago. He held Tina tighter and tried not to vomit, closing his eyes and leaning his cheek against the top of her head.

* * *

A/N: Wow, my mind is a lot more twisted than I thought. Please leave a review.


	5. Chapter 5

Noah didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but Tina's stirring forced him to open his eyes. She let out a small, pained moan as the extent of her injuries began to set in, and tried to climb off of Noah's legs. Noah held her as tight as he dared, not letting her stand up for fear she had a concussion and would fall down. She whimpered and pushed weakly against his arms. Shh, shh. He cupped her face in his hands, making her look at him. It's just me. They're not here. She collapsed into his chest and sobbed.

Kurt ventured closer again, scratching at his bare side where the ribs looked like massive fingers clamped around his narrow torso. She saw the inside of the oven, he said. Didn't she?

Noah kept a firm hand on the back of Tina's head, not letting her turn and see. When I said stay away, I meant it.

Why?

You're sick.

Kurt wheezed a laugh. Sick cattle. That's a good one. _I_ get sick, then _they_ get sick... Genius. Remember mad cow?

Noah, who is that? Tina cried softly, her eyes buried in his neck.

It's nobody. Don't look.

Can't hide forever, Kurt said, shrugging and hoisting up his jeans as they began to slip over his jutting hips. They'll come back.

Tina shrank closer to Noah, making no sound.

Shut up, Noah growled, his lip curling. They will not come back.

Another wheezing laugh and a shake of the head. Telling her that won't make them stay up there.

* * *

It was dark in the cellar. The only sounds were the shallow, quiet breathing of the skeletons in the shadows; no light came through the slats in the boards over the tiny windows. The air smelled putrid, and it was getting worse as Noah sat against the wall, half-asleep. Tina leaned into his shoulder, wide awake.

Noah?

Hm?

I'm scared.

Me too.

What happens if we never get out of here?

We will.

You don't know that.

No. Are you all right?

Yeah.

Does it still hurt?

Yeah.

What happened up there?

Nothing.

Tina…

Nothing happened.

He gripped her hand. It's okay. Finn's gonna come back for us.

No, he's not.

You don't know that.

Yes, I do. He has to protect Summer. There's no contest. He won't risk her safety for ours. Not after Quinn.

What does Quinn have to do with it?

There was a long silence. Nothing, she said.

* * *

The next day, the cellar smelled bad enough to make Tina vomit, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the cement. Noah held her hand while she convulsed and made sure his coat kept her mostly covered, since there were no other clothes he could offer her to preserve her dignity. Earlier she had allowed him to use his hands to apply pressure to most of the areas on her body to make sure that none of her bones were broken, but she had cried silently as he did it, her nails digging into her palms.

When she was done, she wiped her mouth, and Noah helped her sit back down. There were fresh tears leaving dirty tracks on her face, and she held her hand over her nose in a weak attempt to shield it from the smell.

I hope they come soon, she said.

Don't say that.

I do. I can't do this any more.

It's going to be okay, Tina.

Stop saying that.

No.

* * *

Later, the door slammed open and two men came stomping down the steps, their nostrils flaring as the pungent odor washed over them.

What the hell is that? asked one.

Aw crap, we lost one.

The men went over to where the lone child lay, one delivering a swift kick to the boy's belly. The boy rolled over, stiff and cold.

Been dead for a couple days if he's stinkin' up the place.

Tina turned away, not watching as they picked him up, dragging his body upstairs and out of sight. She and Noah both knew that the corpse would simply be dropped in the woods somewhere far enough away from the house so they could no longer smell it. No burial, no animals to strip the bones bare, no acknowledgment that the boy was no older than six. Just tossed in the woods to rot. But that was the way things went now, wasn't it?

Poor boy's missing out on his dinner, said Kurt from his corner.

Noah and Tina said nothing, and eventually, the men returned. Tina reflexively shrank as close to Noah as she could, her eyes wide and afraid. The men looked from skeleton to skeleton, and settled on Noah.

They had to call two more of their cronies downstairs in order to separate him from Tina and then force him up the steps, yelling and kicking and struggling all the while. Tina screamed and beat one of the men with her fists, but he backhanded her across the face and she staggered back and fell to the floor. We'll be back for you again later, he snapped, locking the door behind him.

* * *

A/N: I know this is a short chapter, and I'm sorry for that. Review anyways?


	6. Chapter 6

Noah thrashed and yelled, but there were four of them and only one of him. He managed to get one strong kick to one man's face, drawing forth a gush of blood from his nose, but they dragged him outside and pinned him on the frozen ground, one man holding down his arms and two holding his legs. The bandit with the bloody nose wielded a metal bat, and as he turned it in his hands, Noah saw that part of it was caked with congealed blood and dirt. It glinted dimly in the grey sun.

Hold him down.

Get the fuck away from me!

He shrugged. It's survival of the fittest, son. And you ain't fit. Hold his leg – don't let him kick. Yeah, that's good.

He hoisted the bat above his head and brought it down with a wet-sounding _crack_. Noah screamed through clenched teeth and tears streamed out his eyes as pain washed over him, though he couldn't tell from where. Breathing hard, he barely noticed that the men had let go of him – it was a blow meant to cripple, not kill. He was unable to move, and he saw tiny black dots swirl in front of his eyes. He felt his stomach roll and he was dangerously close to passing out as the pain seemed to drain into his thigh. The man raised the bat again, and Noah closed his eyes and waited.

A gunshot cut through the air, and then another. Angry shouts from the men. More shots. A scream – Tina's? The dull _thunk _of a blunt weapon connecting with flesh and the splintering of bone. Noah tried to open his eyes to see what was happening, but the dots in his vision swelled and he felt nauseous and dizzy and shell-shocked, and then his head lolled on the ground and all of his senses faded.

* * *

When he awoke, he was warm. His eyes stayed shut, but he could feel the heat of a fire gently holding him, and he sighed and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

The next time he woke, he was in pain. He'd moved in his sleep and the grating of broken bones beneath bruised flesh made him cry out and snap back into reality. A hand was suddenly on his forehead, a face leaning in close and telling him he was okay.

Tina?

Hey.

God, what happened?

Your leg is broken.

Oh, Jesus. Noah felt his heart sink. In this world, injury meant a slow and agonizing death.

We have to set it.

What? No.

Noah, we have to. You'll die if we don't.

Is there any water?

Yeah, here.

Tina handed him her bottle and helped him sit a little ways up to drink. He looked around. They were indoors, in the living room of another vacated house. How did we get here? he asked.

We tied you to a board.

We?

Finn came back.

What? I thought—

He made Summer stay here while he came back to help us. We're about half a mile off the road – they won't be able to find us here. There's no food, but it's better than… Her voice trailed off.

He smiled. Told you it'd be okay.

He's awake? Finn walked in from the other room. Hey, how's your leg?

Hurts like hell.

I bet. I hate to say this, but we're probably gonna have to set it today, before the muscle starts to die.

Noah nodded wordlessly, feeling sick. Eventually, he asked what had happened after he'd slipped into unconsciousness.

Finn sat cross-legged on the floor beside Noah, handing him a cushion from some old ratty piece of furniture to prop his head up. Well, I'd been camping out in the woods outside the house for about three hours, trying to figure out if there were too many guys to take on, and then they came dragging you out. Not all of them were there, though, so they were easier to beat. He shrugged. Tina tore open a window to get out of the basement. After we got back here, I had to spend like two hours getting the glass out of her hands.

Noah stared incredulously at Tina. You shouldn't have done that.

She looked down, toying with the dirty band of frayed cloth wrapped around her palms, and didn't answer.

What about Kurt? he asked her. By the look on Finn's face, Tina had already told him that Kurt had been in the cellar with them. Tina's face fell.

He's gone, Noah. They shot him. He was trying to help.

Noah simply gave a silent nod. It had been too late for Kurt anyway.

Finally, he looked back to Finn. What made you come back for us?

I'm not sure.

That's comforting.

No, uh… that's not what I meant. It's just… Summer wouldn't stop crying. And she… she kept telling me that leaving you behind was wrong, and cowardly, and… I dunno. I don't think I'd be able to take care of her without help.

Where is Summer?

Asleep.

We should do it before she wakes up.

Do what?

My leg. She shouldn't have to see that.

Finn took a deep breath and nodded. Okay. We don't have anything to numb you.

Noah swallowed, his stomach doing flips. I know.

Okay. Tina, can you…?

At Finn's gesture, Tina scooted over to sit behind Noah with his head against her legs as Finn knelt at his feet. They worked to pull off his pants so that they could see where the skin bulged over the pressing bone. Give me your belt, Noah said, his voice shaking.

Finn handed him the worn leather strip. Are you ready?

Just do it fast.

He clenched the belt between his teeth. Tina grabbed both of his hands, his knuckles turning white as he gripped her fingers. He was breathing rapidly through his nose, anticipating. He groaned a little in pain as Finn poked and prodded the flesh turned black and blue, trying to figure out which direction would be the best way to realign the broken femur. Finally, he seemed to have the answer, and he gripped Noah's leg at the ankle and just above the knee.

This is gonna hurt.

As Finn pulled the leg downwards, it took every ounce of physical strength Tina had to hold Noah down, since his crushing grip on her hands was so tight that her fingertips were turning purple. His screams were muffled only slightly by the belt in his teeth.

* * *

A/N: This is starting to have effects on my guilt guaging system. Please leave a review?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I've been wanting to write this chapter for a LONG time now, but for some reason my muse wasn't having any of it.

* * *

Daddy! Daddy, what are you doing!

Finn couldn't look away from what he was doing for fear he'd push Noah's broken femur in the wrong direction, but he knew that Summer was standing behind him. Noah's screams had woken her. Get her upstairs, he ordered Tina, his knuckles white where he gripped Noah's leg, trying not to let him thrash. Get her upstairs _now._

Tina gritted her teeth and tried to pull her hands out of Noah's grasp, but the second she moved he sat nearly upright, almost causing Finn to let go. Quickly, she pushed Noah back down. Summer, go back upstairs! Go! she cried.

What are you doing to Noah! Summer screamed.

Finn released Noah's leg, leaving the injured man panting on the floor, and pushed Summer out of the room and up the stairs from the kitchen. He picked her up and sat her on the bed where she'd been sleeping before, then grabbed her hands and made her cover her ears. Stay here, he said. Stay here and whatever you hear, don't come down. I promise, I'll explain later. I promise. He kissed her on the forehead and closed the door behind him and rushed back downstairs.

Noah was breathing hard, shuddering and still gripping Tina's hands hard enough to bruise. Finn knelt again to finish the job.

No, don't! Noah yelled as soon as Finn touched his leg.

We have to.

No, just - just leave it. Let me go. Just let me go.

I am not gonna let you die. So you can forget it.

Just let me go.

Tina, put the belt back. Come on, man, it'll be over soon.

Tina coaxed the belt between his teeth again and held on to him tighter. It's gonna be okay, she whispered over and over, a hand on his forehead.

Finn took a deep breath, resumed his grip on Noah's leg, and with one more push, he felt the bone connect with its other half. Noah jerked and screamed again, a fresh stream of tears leaving dirty smudges on his face.

It's almost over, Finn reassured him. He avoided looking at Noah's face as he got up and got a broom out of the closet in the kitchen and used his hatchet to cut the handle to the same length as Noah's leg. Almost done, he said again. He got a sheet from the upstairs linen cupboard and tore strips off. Noah's ribs were shuddering harder than before, and Tina's fingers had turned a deep purple where he was gripping them. Finn knelt beside Noah and used the strips of cloth and the shortened broom handle to splint Noah's leg. Every few seconds Noah grunted in pain and his grip on Tina's hands didn't loosen in the slightest, but he seemed to know through his pain-induced delirium that the worst was over and he tried not to move as Finn worked. Eventually, he fell completely silent, his eyes sliding shut and his hands falling limply to the floor.

Noah? Tina said, her brow creased with worry. She gently shook his shoulders. Noah.

Finn looked up from what he was doing and frowned. Is he okay?

I don't know. Noah. Noah.

Fuck. Is he breathing?

Yes.

Finn breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. I think he's just passed out. He leaned forward and pressed his fingers to the side of Noah's neck. Yeah, he's got a pulse. I think he'll be okay.

Tina nodded, her hands still on his shoulders. Okay.

Finn finished tying the splint in silence and stood up. Can you stay with him? She nodded again and Finn went upstairs.

He found Summer exactly where he'd left her, but her hands were no longer covering her ears, and she was quietly crying. Daddy, is Noah okay?

He nodded, sitting down next to her. Yeah. Yeah, Noah's okay. He's asleep right now.

But he'll wake up, right?

Finn brushed her hair back with one hand, smiling sadly. Yeah, he whispered. He'll wake up.

* * *

Later that night, Finn pulled out a can of peaches, left over from the last house they'd stayed in, and divvied up half of it between himself, Tina, and Summer, leaving the largest portion for Noah when he came around. Tina hadn't moved from where she'd sat holding Noah down, and his head was still resting on her knees. Finn could tell by the way she flexed her fingers every few minutes that they were badly bruised, but he didn't say anything about it, eating his few bites of dinner in silence before taking Summer back upstairs to bed.

Daddy? she asked when the light had completely faded from the window. Her head was tucked under his chin and she was warm, but she was still wide awake.

Finn was closer to sleep than to consciousness, but he responded anyway. Yeah?

How long are we gonna stay here?

Finn hummed, his voice rumbling in his chest. I dunno, Summer. As long as we can.

Why?

'Cause we have to let Noah's leg heal as much as it can before we leave.

But there's no food here.

We still have some left over.

How much?

He hummed again, his eyes still closed. I think maybe fifteen cans.

How long will that last?

I dunno. A while, I hope.

I want to leave.

We can't. Not yet.

But why?

We have to let Noah's leg heal a bit. He needs to be able to walk before we leave.

What if the food runs out before he gets better?

Go to sleep, Summer.

I'm not sleepy.

Just close your eyes and maybe you'll fall asleep anyways, Finn mumbled. He was exhausted after using most of his energy to set Noah's leg.

Daddy, what if the food runs out first? Summer pressed.

Go to sleep.

I don't want to. What if the food runs out first?

We'll figure it out.

Summer was quiet for a moment. Daddy? she asked.

What is it?

Is Noah gonna be like Mommy?

Finn's eyes snapped open. What do you mean?

I heard him. He wanted you to let him go. Is he gonna do the same thing Mommy did?

He sighed, tucking Summer's hair behind her ear. You know I love you, right?

Uh-huh.

Good. Now go to sleep.

But -

It's late, Summer. Go to sleep.

* * *

A/N: So, the reasons for the delay in updating: First, as I said before my muse was being annoying and not doing her job. Second, I became occupied/obsessed with a brand new series I've started for Glee titled _Expect the Unexpected_ - PLEASE check it out if you haven't already. Third, I went on vacation to Crete, and I'm still there now. I kinda sorta vowed that I wouldn't update again until I got back to the States on the 10th, but hey, I'm not exactly a man of my word. So, yeah. Leave a review.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: One month, my muse refuses to talk, then the next she refuses to shut up. Typical.

* * *

Tina didn't know how long it was that she'd sat with Noah's head against her legs before he began to shiver. She eased him to the floor as gently as she could and put more wood on the still-glowing embers in the hearth, wobbling since her legs had fallen asleep. She went upstairs and got two more blankets, checked on Finn and Summer, and returned to the living room, covering Noah with one blanket and wrapping the other around herself. She pulled him back across her lap and sat rubbing his shoulders to warm him up, humming lightly under her breathy as she did. Absentmindedly, she watched the flames flicker in the fireplace for a long time before she noticed that Noah was still shivering, his teeth clicking in the cold. She frowned and put a hand to his forehead. His skin was searing hot to the touch, and when she took her hand away it was damp from the sweat beading on his face. He mumbled something incoherent, his eyelids fluttering for a brief second. Tina's heart sank and she quickly removed Noah's blanket and eased him to the floor again. She wet a rag from the kitchen with some water from her bottle and pressed it to his forehead. Then she went back upstairs and entered the room where Finn and Summer were sleeping.

Finn, she whispered. Finn! Wake up.

He snorted awake, bleary-eyed and confused. What is it? he grumbled.

You need to come downstairs. Noah's got a fever.

Shit. Shaking the sleep from his head, Finn somehow managed to untangle himself from around Summer's tiny body without waking her and he followed Tina downstairs. He felt Noah's forehead and checked his pulse.

His heart's going fast, he said. He's fighting something big.

You think his leg's infected? Tina asked.

Finn nodded. We need to get his temperature down, and soon.

Okay.

Carefully, they stripped Noah of all his clothes except his pants since they couldn't take them off without removing the splint. He was shaking violently, teeth clattering.

We should get him away from the fire, Tina said.

Finn shook his head. That's not enough. We need to get him outside.

Okay.

Tina went and got the board they'd used to carry Noah earlier and they carried him outside and laid him on the porch. A gentle but freezing breath of wind pressed against their lungs as they inhaled, their breath clouding in the air. Noah's shivering grew more severe.

Daddy! came a scream from inside, and Finn jumped to his feet and ran up to the bedroom.

It's okay, Summer, I just went downstairs. Okay? I'm right downstairs. Go back to sleep.

I'm cold.

Finn covered her with another blanket and then went back outside. I'll stay with him, he said to Tina. You should get some sleep.

Tina sighed and nodded before going inside. Finn sat on the porch step, within an arm's reach of Noah, and stared off into the pitch dark beyond. The only sounds were his own breathing, Noah's chattering teeth, and trees falling in the distance. He listened carefully to the crashes and decided that they weren't close enough to be dangerous. A long while later, Finn turned to see that Summer had come out onto the porch and was standing with her arms clamped around her torso.

Hey. You cold?

She nodded, trembling.

Well, why'd you leave your bed? C'mere.

She climbed into his lap and curled up against his chest. Finn wrapped his arms around her and marveled at how small she was.

Daddy, what's wrong with Noah?

He's sick.

Can we give him a blanket?

No, I'm sorry.

Why not?

'Cause we need to get his temperature down. He's got a fever.

Is he contagious?

No, he's not. He got sick from his leg.

You can get a fever from a broken leg?

Yeah, sometimes. If you're not careful.

I thought you were careful.

He pulled her a little closer. Sometimes it happens anyways, he said.

Summer climbed off of his legs and crouched next to Noah, studying him in the light of the fire from inside. Daddy?

What's wrong?

His lips are blue.

Finn sent Summer to wake Tina up and as the sky slowly turned grey above them, they moved Noah back into the house. Tina covered him with blankets and Finn put more wood on the fire.

Summer, can you do something for me?

Uh-huh.

Can you stay with Noah for a little bit?

She nodded, knowing that she was being given an important task.

Okay, now you gotta make sure that he stays warm, but if he starts sweating again, take his blankets off and then come find me or Tina so we can take him back outside. Okay?

What if he wakes up?

Then come find me.

Okay.

Okay?

Yeah.

Good.

He ruffled her hair and kissed her forehead and then he and Tina went into the kitchen and pulled out all the food they had left and rationed it.

Summer asked me last night what would happen if the food ran out before Noah could walk, Finn said.

What did you tell her?

I didn't tell her anything.

* * *

Noah's fever came and went and every few hours they had to move him back out to the porch. He slipped in and out of consciousness and when he was awake he rambled with mixed-up words about nothing. Tina was able to get him to eat and drink a little, and Summer sat silently beside him and didn't move until Finn called her to help him hunt for firewood outside. Tina stayed behind and kept an eye on him and made sure the fire didn't go out, and after an hour of managing both, Noah's eyes scrunched up in the grey daylight filtering in through the windows. Tina was leaning over him the second she heard him groan.

How are you feeling?

Cold...

She tucked the blankets closer and he closed his eyes. Better?

Mm-hm.

Are you hungry?

Hippos.

What?

Hungry hippos.

Against her will and better judgment, Tina laughed at Noah's deliriously definitive statement. I'll see if I can find them later, she told him, pressing the damp rag to his forehead again. You want some food?

Cheeseburger with fries and a milkshake.

She smiled. Well, we're all out of beef. We got pears, though.

He frowned, his eyes still closed. His shoulders trembled in a shiver that lasted only for a moment.

Noah? You still awake?

I'll apologize to Artie when I see him...

Tina's smiled vanished. What?

But Noah's face was completely relaxed, his eyes moving beneath the lids, and Tina knew he'd fallen back asleep. There was a clatter at the door and then Finn and Summer came in, their arms full of dead wood. Did he wake up? Finn asked as they stacked the wood beside the hearth.

For a minute.

Uh, Tina?

What?

You're crying. You okay?

Tina sniffed and wiped her eyes of the tears she hadn't known were there. Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.

Finn frowned at her. What did he say?

Nothing. He, uh... he wanted a cheeseburger.

It was obvious that Finn didn't believe her, but he didn't press the subject and instead enlisted Summer's help in choosing what to have for dinner. Tina stayed where she was, staring at the wall and trying not to think.

* * *

A/N: I turned 18 yesterday. Review.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I don't really know why, but I really like this chapter.

* * *

They were almost out of water, and Tina and Summer had left to search the woods behind the house for a stream or brook, leaving Finn to watch Noah and make sure the fire didn't go out. It was early afternoon. Finn was kneeling next to Noah's leg and inspecting it closely when Noah's eyes slid open, glassy with fever.

What're you doing? he mumbled.

I'm trying to see how bad the bruising is. You feeling any better?

What month is it?

I'm not sure. March, I think.

Huh... Coulda sworn it was August.

Might be. Finn pressed his fingers to the side of Noah's neck and felt his forehead again. You're still burning up, he said.

What d'you think Earth looks like now?

What do you mean?

From the moon... Noah frowned at the ceiling in thought. D'you think the moon's still up there?

I dunno. Maybe. Hard to tell.

What's hard to tell?

The...the moon. You don't remember asking me that?

Noah's eyelids drooped and he didn't answer.

You want some food?

'M thirsty.

Okay. Finn gave him his water bottle and helped him sit up to drink and lay back down when he was done. You comfortable?

I gotta take a piss.

Finn retrieved the crutch that he'd fashioned for Noah out of pieces of one of the beds upstairs and with a grunt he pulled Noah upwards until he was standing on his good leg, leaning heavily against Finn's side. Finn put the crutch under Noah's arm and pulled one of his arms over his shoulders and slowly they made their way outside. Noah winced with every step, and their breath clouded once they made it to the porch.

Maybe it _is_ March, Noah said, hands shaking in the cold.

While Noah went about his business while leaning for support on the porch rail, Finn scanned the surrounding woods for any signs of movement. They hadn't seen any people since the cellar where Noah and Tina had been held, but neither Finn nor Tina had felt at ease - they weren't so far away from the bandits' lair, after all. Finn had kept his pistol by his side at all time, and now his fingers brushed its handle inside his pocket. They had a few more guns inside - they'd stolen them from the bandits' house before they'd left and they were good as clubs, but they had only three bullets left, all of which resided in Finn's pistol.

How far d'you think I can make it?

The question startled Finn and he frowned in response. Noah was still leaning on the porch railing, staring at the bare bone-white trees. Before what? Finn asked.

Come on, man. You and I both know that this... He gestured to his leg and shook his head. I'm as good as dead.

Fuck you. You know better than to talk like that. If I catch you saying shit like that around Summer, I'm leaving you behind.

Noah stared up at the skeletal branches and was silent.

It's cold, said Finn. Let's go back inside. Come on.

* * *

Noah's fever finally broke on their fourth day staying in the house, and he woke up as the last of the daylight was fading from the ashen dusk. Summer was bent over a plastic basin by the fire and Tina was washing her hair as best she could with no soap. Noah didn't say anything for a long time and then Summer saw that his eyes were open and ran over to him, her hair dripping. Tina smiled with relief and came over too.

You had us pretty worried for awhile there, she said.

Sorry. How long was I out?

Three days.

You were talking really funny too, Summer informed him. She'd taken off her shirt and coat for her bath and was starting to shiver, so Noah let her climb under the blankets with him and he squeezed her against his side with one arm.

I missed you, he told her, brushing some drops of water from her hair off his shoulder. What kinda funny things was I saying?

Tina sat on the floor next to them, crossing her legs. Well, at one point you tried to get up, saying you had to feed the dog.

And what'd you say?

I told you I'd have Finn do it.

That's funny.

Tina reached forward and laid the back of her hand against his forehead. You still feel a little warm, but I think you'll be okay.

I think not rambling about nonexistent dogs is usually a pretty good sign.

Usually.

He watched her for a minute, a slight frown etched into his hollowed face. You okay?

She studied her palms and didn't look at him. Yeah. I'm fine.

Did something happen?

No.

He followed her gaze and saw that her fingers were blue. Is that where I grabbed you?

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

It's okay.

Does it hurt?

She shrugged. Not really.

Noah sighed and looked around the room. Where's Finn?

He went out to get firewood a little while ago. Summer, can you get your coat on and go look for him? Don't go too far, though.

After Summer had disappeared out the front door on a Daddy-hunt, Noah spoke. Tina, did something happen?

She looked startled. When?

When I was out.

No.

You sure?

She didn't answer for a long time, and when she finally did, she was staring out the window. You said you'd apologize to Artie when you saw him.

Noah's frown deepened and he was quiet. I'm sorry.

It's okay, Tina said softly. You weren't exactly coherent.

He is dead, though, isn't he?

Yeah. We, uh... we went back for him, but... She shrugged again and shook her head. Noah reached out and grabbed her hand, gently this time. She sniffed and still didn't look at him, but she squeezed his fingers. It doesn't really matter, she whispered. One more person doesn't make a difference.

She didn't wait for him to argue and stood up and disappeared into the kitchen to get a can of tomatoes for dinner before Finn and Summer came back.

In the middle of the night, they were woken by the sound of rain beating against the roof of the house.

* * *

A/N: Please, please, PLEASE review.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm back from vacation, which means I have steady access to a computer, which means I don't have to rely on a notebook to keep my thoughts in organized chaos, which means that you get to see more of my disturbing mind than I like to admit I have.

* * *

The rain swept in with lightning and deep rumbles of thunder as the barren earth groaned with cold. Finn and Tina took all the pots and pans and bowls from the kitchen and put them outside to collect water before they went to bed, the two of them huddling together with Summer between them and Noah downstairs by the fire. In the wee hours of the morning, long before the daylight would beat its way through the ash, Summer woke Finn with an urgent whisper.

Daddy, what's that noise?

What noise?

Don't you hear that?

It's just the rain, Summer.

It's not the rain. It's coming from downstairs.

Finn's eyes snapped open, pupils dilating in a sudden flash of lightning, and he raised his head, perfectly still as he listened. Tina stirred on Summer's other side.

What is it? What's wrong?

Shh.

As the next peal of thunder faded away, Summer tensed. There it is! Did you hear it that time?

Finn's jaw clenched and his eyes widened and he nodded, quickly climbing out of bed. He grabbed his pistol and crept to the door, peering warily into the hallway as another flash of lightning struck the distant hills. Thunder shook the walls of the house and rattled the windows.

I heard it again! Summer exclaimed.

Shh! Finn hissed. Keep your voice down! Tina, make sure she doesn't leave. You keep her here.

Gun at the ready, Finn groped his way downstairs. The only lights guiding him were the periodic flashes of white through the windows, and when he finally made it down the creaking stairway, he saw that the fire in the living room had died. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he knew that something was very, very wrong. He would have called Noah's name, but he was afraid that the bandits had finally tracked them down and were waiting in the dark with their guns and chains and knives ready.

A moment later, a blinding flash lit the room, illuminating Noah's silhouette for a split second. He'd pulled himself across the floor and was sitting against the far wall with his left hand raised above his head. As the thunder rolled closer there was a sick-sounding solid _crack_ that made Finn's hair stand on end, closely followed by a strangled cry of pain. Finn froze as another lightning strike was reflected off the glinting edge of his hatchet, clutched in Noah's fist. He suddenly realized that the black shadow seeping towards him was Noah's blood and he lunged forward without a second thought and grabbed Noah's arm, stopping it before he could swing the hatchet down again.

No! Noah yelled, fighting him as the rain beat relentlessly against the windows and thunder rumbled overhead. No! I have to stop it! I have to cut it off! he screamed.

Finn wrestled the axe from Noah's hand and tossed it to the other side of the room. What the _hell_ were you thinking? Finn stormed, still gripping Noah's arm with an iron hold. Noah's skin was burning almost painfully into Finn's palm and when the next bolt of lightning struck he saw that Noah's eyes were dazed and dull and he wasn't really there. The fever was back.

Noah was shuddering and trembling and there were tears coursing freely down his face. Finn's brain reconnected with his body and he grabbed a blanket from Noah's bedding and pressed it to his mangled leg and then went about reviving the fire. Once the room was lit as the flames grew, Finn turned back to Noah and almost cried out as he finally saw the extent of what Noah had done.

God, what the hell were you thinking? Finn repeated in a whisper. He crouched and pressed the blanket against Noah's thigh. The gashes were deep and Finn could easily see cracked bone, closer to the hip from where the leg had originally been broken.

I had to stop it... Noah panted.

Finn didn't look at him as he mopped up some of the blood oozing out of Noah's leg. Jesus Christ, Noah. Jesus _Christ._ Maybe we _should_ leave you behind since you're so hell-bent on dying.

Give me the hatchet. Please. Let me finish it.

No. Fucking hell, Noah.

You have to let me finish! What if something happens to you, Finn? Who's gonna take care of Summer if we both die?

I am not letting you anywhere near Summer after this.

She's my daughter.

No she isn't. Summer is _my_ priority and I'm not about to trust you with her if you can't fucking think straight. So if you're gonna do this kinda shit, then I'm taking her and Tina and you can stay here and die for all I care.

* * *

By midday it had stopped raining and Finn and Tina had bandaged Noah's leg as best they could using a torn-up sheet and had carried all the collected water into the house from outside. They stood in the kitchen, carefully filling up their water bottles.

What should we do? asked Tina.

About what?

About Noah. There's no way his leg will heal after what he did and even if it does our food won't hold out until then.

I know. What do you think we should do?

Tina sighed. We don't have much of a choice. The infection's getting worse. He's getting sicker. We either leave him here or we cut it off.

Damn it.

What are you thinking?

Finn coughed into the crook of his elbow. I'm thinking that we need to put what happens to Summer before anything else. I don't want to leave him behind, but if we cut off his leg and he ends up slowing us down then we're putting ourselves in danger and I dunno about you but I'm willing to let him die to keep Summer alive.

So...

So will he slow us down?

Tina was silent for a long time. I don't know.

* * *

Noah. Noah! Wake up.

What?

You get what you want.

What?

I'm gonna finish it for you. But if you try anything like this again then I swear to God I'll kill you myself.

Why?

Because Summer needs to see that we're willing to do whatever it takes to keep going.

No I meant why did you agree to do this.

Just hold still.

Where's Summer?

Tina took her outside.

Okay. Can I have your belt?

Here. Now hold still.

* * *

A/N: I feel the need to apologize for this chapter because all the reviews I got said that you guys were glad Noah was okay. In my defense, though, I wrote three different versions of this chapter, and this was the only one that felt right. The next few chapters will be less gruesome. Leave a review.


	11. Chapter 11

When Tina and Summer came back from collecting firewood, Finn was sitting slumped on the porch steps, staring at nothing. He didn't notice them approaching until Summer crawled into his lap, pulling his arms around her scrawny frame. Daddy? she ventured.

He only gripped her tighter, and Tina dropped the wood she was carrying and ran into the house, her mind reeling with what she was afraid of finding. In the living room, Noah lay unmoving in his makeshift bed by the glowing embers in the fireplace, surrounding by more blood than she thought was possible to shed. Where his leg had been only a stump the length of his hand remained, sloppily bandaged with another sheet from upstairs, and Tina let out a hoarse cry when she saw the missing appendage lying a good ten feet away.

Tina?

Stay out, Summer! Go on! Go back outside!

Tina pushed Summer out of the room and slammed the door shut and then turned back around and dropped to her knees beside Noah. She avoided looking at what was left of his leg. When she finally saw that his chest was still rising and falling, the air left her lungs in relief.

Tina? came a hoarse whisper.

Hey. She smiled, her eyes watering slightly. How you doing?

Been better.

You'll be okay, Noah.

Promise?

Yeah. Promise.

I had a dream about Quinn.

Yeah? What was she doing?

I don't remember. He shivered a little, and Tina pulled the blankets closer around his shoulders.

You warm enough? she asked.

Yeah.

* * *

A week later, they left the house. Finn carried two of the bags with their supplies (his bag and Noah's), while Summer held onto his hand and Tina and Noah followed behind at a slower pace. Noah was leaning on the makeshift crutch and Tina was supporting his weight on the other side, the third supply bag slung over her shoulder. They followed along the road, heading south and camping in the woods during the nights. Slowly, their food reserve grew smaller, until they were left with only two cans of spam and they decided that it would be best if they ate only every other day, with half a can to split between the four of them. They saw no other people, but they were constantly on edge, unwilling to get caught by bandits a second time.

Late in the pitch black of night roughly three weeks after they'd abandoned the last house, Finn started awake, his eyes immediately wide as he listened carefully for what had woken him. Somewhere relatively close, there was an eerie creaking, moaning _crack_, and then a solid _crash_ on the forest floor. After only a few moments of silence, there was another, and Finn shook Tina's shoulder.

Tina, wake up. The trees are falling.

In an instant, Tina was wide awake and shoving their blankets into the bags. Finn went over and woke Noah up, heaving him upwards until he was standing on his leg, leaning on Finn for support. Tina slung all three bags over her shoulders, snatched up Summer, and began to run just as a third _crack_ began to echo through the woods.

Come on! Finn shouted to Noah as the two of them hobbled as fast as they could. Noah didn't respond, his breath heaving as he clung to Finn's shoulder. They could hear branches snapping overhead, and a loud _crash_ to their left as a broken limb smashed into the earth. Finn held on tighter to Noah's middle, trying to move him faster as the trees groaned above. The soil trembled beneath their feet as the trunk of a giant oak collided with the ground.

_TINA!_ they heard Summer scream.

They stopped in their tracks for a brief moment, hearts pounding. Summer! Finn yelled. Summer, where are you!

_Daddy!_ she screamed.

Finn got them moving again, rushing over the uneven ground as debris fell around them. They followed Summer's voice through the blackness until, their pupils swollen in the dark, they could barely see her shape a few feet away. Summer! Finn shouted. Where's Tina?

I don't know, she was right next to me! Summer cried. I don't know where she went!

Finn took a deep breath, shifting his grip on Noah. Okay, we have to get out of here, he said, his tone flat and definitive. Come on, Summer, grab onto my coat. Do _not_ let go. Okay?

Okay, she sniffed.

Noah, you okay?

Yeah, Noah wheezed, his voice strained as he grasped Finn's shoulder.

Come on, Finn urged, pulling Noah forward.

The trees continued to moan as they ran, a hollow echo of their mourning roots as they were torn up from the soil. The crashes grew more frequent and the earth shook with the strength of their impact.

And suddenly, just as Finn thought his legs were going to snap from the effort of trying to run while supporting Noah and dragging Summer, they were out of the forest and back onto the road, free of the trees falling to the ground. Finn let out an exhausted sigh as he lowered Noah to a sitting position on the far side of the road, sitting next to him and pulling Summer into his arms.

Are you okay? he asked her.

Yeah. Are you?

Yeah, I'm good.

Finn, Noah said. Tina has our supply bags.

I know. I'm going to go find her in the morning.

Why not now? asked Summer.

Because I won't be able to see her.

You could make a torch.

But Tina has our matches.

Oh.

It's okay, Finn promised. I'll find her in the morning. I'm sure she's okay.

* * *

In the morning, Finn did as he promised and disappeared into the forest in search of Tina. Take care of Summer, he told Noah as he left them by the side of the road.

Noah nodded and sent a silent prayer skyward that Tina was uninjured, not even realizing as he did it that he hadn't prayed since the world was still green.

Do you think she's okay? Summer asked, huddling close to Noah and shivering in the cold.

Yeah, he said, placing an arm around her scrawny frame. I'm sure she just got separated from us.

If she's lost, she might've gone off in the wrong direction.

If she got lost, she knows that she's supposed to stay put 'til we find her.

Summer frowned, deep in thought for a long time. Noah stared upwards at the ashes floating on the chilly breeze.

What's it like?

Noah looked down at Summer's wide blue eyes, a reflection of a sky that no longer existed. What's what like?

Having one leg.

Oh. It's, uh… kinda weird.

Why?

'Cause I can still feel it, almost.

Summer cocked her head to the side in confusion. How? she asked.

Just 'cause I can remember what having two legs feels like.

Does it still hurt?

No, it's okay.

Summer fell into her thoughts again, staring off down the dusty road. How long do you think it'll be before we get South? she asked.

I don't know, Summer. I hope it'll be soon.

* * *

An hour later, Finn reappeared, carrying their supply bags by himself.

You found Tina? Noah asked, his heart sinking.

Finn nodded, setting the bags down and pulling out a can of sardines for the three of them. Yeah, he said. I found her.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry, please don't hurt me. I tried to argue with the muse, I swear, but...it was just time for Tina to die.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, their food ran out. In the evening Finn crouched and made a fire while Summer sat on Noah's lap and let him pull the tangles out from her hair. She flinched and let out a small cry when he accidentally yanked on a knot at the base of her neck.

Sorry, he said.

It never hurt when Tina did it, Summer remarked softly.

Tina's not here, Finn snapped.

Noah glanced over at him, not really surprised by Finn's bitterness. Finn kept his gaze on the wood he was stacking for the fire. Noah turned his attention back to Summer's hair. A moment later, there was a loud clatter as Finn growled in frustration and knocked over the stack of wood.

Fuck, he said.

What's wrong, Daddy?

Nothing, he bit out through clenched teeth.

Finn… Noah started.

What! Finn shouted. Summer started to cry.

Noah sighed. Come on, man. Don't take this out on Summer.

I'm not taking anything out on anyone.

Look, I miss her too, Noah said.

_You_ miss her! Tina and I were together since everything went to shit! She was there when Rachel disappeared! She was there when Quinn threw herself off a bridge! _You_ were not! Tina's gone, and she's left me stuck with a cripple and a kid who can't fend for herself!

Finn! Noah barked. Summer doesn't need to hear this!

Finn huffed, raking his fingers through his dirty unkempt hair. I-I'm sorry, he said. I didn't mean that.

* * *

Late at night, Summer was still awake, Finn's arms wrapped around her. Noah was sleeping on the other side of the fire.

Daddy? she whispered.

Mm.

I'm hungry.

I am too.

How long will it be before we find more food?

I don't know, Finn mumbled, still half-asleep.

Are we gonna die?

No. Not anytime soon.

How do you know?

I just do. We always find food, don't we?

I guess.

We'll be okay.

What if we run into the bad guys again?

Hm?

Noah can't run. He's gonna get eaten.

Don't worry about Noah. Go to sleep.

I miss Tina.

So do I. Now go to sleep.

Do you think Tina's with Mommy now?

Probably.

What do you think they're doing?

I dunno. Watching us, maybe. Making sure we're okay.

Are we?

Yeah, we are.

* * *

They walked into a city just as the sky was beginning to turn dark on the fifth day since Tina died. The buildings were in various stages of decay, some almost fully standing, some no more than ruins. No grass had begun to grow through the cracks in the street, and the trees that had once lined the sidewalks were long dead. Grey corpses, dried and desiccated from years of exposure, littered the streets. Men, women, and children lay facedown in the road or slumped in doorways or sat in their rusted-over cars.

Summer whimpered and hugged closer to Finn's side. Finn squeezed her shoulder with his free hand, the other arm hefting two of their supply bags. The third bag was strapped to Noah's back, and he was limping along using a fat branch as a crutch. He barely looked at the corpses – he'd seen far worse.

We should try to find some stuff, Noah said. You know, food, matches. Maybe a blanket or two.

Finn shook his head. It's too late now. We'll scavenge in the morning.

I don't want to sleep here, Summer said, staring at the mummified body of a dog on the sidewalk.

We have to, Finn told her. It's almost dark and I think it's going to rain tonight. We have to sleep under a roof.

Summer didn't say anything more.

* * *

They spent the night in what had once been a restaurant, curled up together on the floor of the dust-covered kitchen, and were woken up in the early hours of the morning by the sound of rain pelting against the crumbling roof. Finn took some of the pots and pans and put them outside to collect water as the sky gradually lightened behind the ashen clouds.

Daddy? Summer asked as Finn came back inside. She shivered under her coat.

What is it?

Are we gonna have to stay here again?

Maybe. It depends.

On what?

Finn coughed into the crook of his elbow and sat down on the floor, still exhausted. Summer sat on his lap, leaning into his embrace. It depends on how long it takes us to find what we need, he said.

Where do you think we'll find food?

I don't know, there's lots of places that might have food. We should also stop by the hospital and see if there's anything there for Noah.

Summer sighed sleepily and wound her skinny arms around his neck. Tell me a story.

Finn coughed again and leaned his head back against the wall. Okay, which one do you want?

I don't know. Something happy.

* * *

Noah didn't wake up until late morning, after the rain had finally stopped. Looking around, he saw that Finn and Summer were no longer with him. He grabbed his crutch and with a grunt of effort that left him dizzy, he pulled himself up to stand and lean against the wall. He brushed his hands over the slowly-healing stump of his amputated leg and winced when it stung beneath the bandages. The flesh was still raw and very little of it had grown skin, so hindered was his healing process by his lack of nutrition. He scratched at his ribs where they protruded beneath the minimal flesh on his torso and limped into the outer room to search for his companions.

He found Finn leaning back against the wall and snoring with Summer asleep in his arms. Hey, he whispered. Wake up.

Finn snorted awake, rubbing his eyes. What time is it?

I dunno, midday maybe. We should go look for food.

Okay. Summer, it's time to wake up.

They found in the restaurant's freezer an old flat of soda cans and each took two. The soda was still fizzy after years of sitting and Summer giggled when it tingled against her tongue.

Finn smiled at her. We used to drink this stuff all the time, he said.

Summer gulped down the rest of her can. It feels funny.

Finn coughed and stood up to fill one of the bags with the rest of the sodas, then helped Noah strap the bag to his back. Then he filled their water bottles with the water collected in the pots and hoisted the other two sacks over his shoulder. They all headed out onto the street.

About an hour later, they found an old gas station mini-market that by some miracle had not yet been cleared out. They filled their sacks with packages of stale biscuits and crackers and cookies, old candies that had long gone hard, and bags of crumbling potato chips.

This stuff won't last us as long as canned food, Finn stated. But it's better than nothing.

They found the hospital after several hours of searching. By this time, Noah's leg was incredibly sore from hobbling all over the city, and his crutch was beginning to wear away the skin on his hands. Big red blisters covered most of his palms and his hip was beginning to hurt with each movement. He'd fallen several times and twisted his ankle once, but he was becoming practiced at moving around on his remaining leg.

The inside of the hospital was as dusty and ash-covered as every other building in the city. There were several corpses in the lobby and most of the patient rooms had bodies in them as well. Eventually they found a large closet containing shelves of old medicine and surgical supplies. A thick cloud of ash wafted over them when they opened the door, and Finn had to turn away as a coughing fit took over his lungs for a minute.

You okay? asked Noah.

Yeah, Finn wheezed. Yeah, I'm good. He took a gulp of water and went into the closet, Summer following close behind.

What is all this stuff, Daddy?

It's medicine. For sick people.

Are we going to take any?

Some of it, yeah. Hey, Noah! Look what I found!

Finn reached into the corner behind one of the shelves and withdrew a pair of metal crutches, brushing the dust off of them and covering his mouth as he coughed again. Noah leaned against the doorway and tossed his makeshift crutch aside in favor of the new ones, pulling one under each arm and taking a few test steps. The padding had mostly worn away, but they were better than using a stick.

You could probably run with those, Summer said.

Noah grinned. Yeah, probably.

Finn examined the labels on the medicine bottles until he found some that he thought might be of use in the future and shoved them into a bag, and then they all headed back towards the street.

Come on, Summer, Noah said. I'll race you.

* * *

A/N: Please leave a review!


	13. Chapter 13

Finn knew immediately that he was dreaming, because there was no ash in the sky and the sun shone down from above, unhindered by smoke or clouds. A warm breath of air tugged at his hair and clothes, and birds fluttered overhead as he walked along the sidewalk over the bridge. There were no cars passing by. The road was deserted. Far below the bridge was a gushing river still blue with life, and he leaned his head back and breathed the clean air of his old world. The surrounding hills flourished with trees full of summer leaves, their branches swaying and whispering in the wind.

Up ahead, he spotted a woman standing by the railing and looking down on the river, her bright yellow hair tossed by the breeze. She was wearing a white sweater and a pale blue skirt, her fingers gripping the iron rail as she stared down at the rushing water.

Quinn? he said as he approached. Quinn, what are you doing?

She didn't move. It's too late, she said.

He shook his head. No, Quinn—

Her fingers tightened around the rail. Everyone's gone, she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the river and the wind.

We're still here.

What's the point, Finn?

We're still here.

He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shied away, shaking her head. Don't. Please don't.

Quinn—

His words were cut off by a loud, eerie moan from the earth, and Finn looked towards the hills to see the trees slowly beginning to topple, their leaves turning grey as they fell.

Quinn, don't do this. You can't leave us. What about Summer?

Summer should never have been born.

But she was, Finn argued, growing desperate. She was born, and it's our job to take care of her.

I can't do this any more.

Towering flames erupted on the hills, releasing black plumes of smoke into the air. They floated on the breeze and blotted out the sun, casting shadows over the bridge. The birds were gone. It was growing colder, and the wind was getting harsher. It whipped at Quinn's hair as she pulled herself up onto the railing.

Quinn, _please_—

She turned her head to look down at him. If you want to do what's right, she said softly, you should put a bullet in Summer's head.

Don't say that.

It's the easiest way for her to go.

She's not going anywhere. Please come down.

Ash was beginning to clog the air and swirl in eddies along the road. Hairline cracks were spreading across the concrete beneath Finn's feet, and the railings were rusting over. The world was dying.

Quinn, please— Finn begged, holding out his hand. Just step down.

She sighed, gazing down at the river. You know the saddest part about this new life we lead? She turned back to look at him again. It's that hope no longer serves a purpose.

The ground quaked underfoot, and Quinn vanished over the edge.

* * *

Finn jerked awake, blinking in the early grey light wafting through the window above him. His side was pressed into the wall and his other arm curled around Summer's shoulders, her head burrowed into his chest. He immediately placed his hand over her heart to make sure she was still breathing, then as he felt her shiver, pulled her closer. He glanced over to the other side of the long-dead fire where Noah was tossing and turning in his sleep, and was suddenly very grateful that he and Summer were not alone. Somehow, for all of Summer's life, they had managed to stay close to people they knew and trusted, and Finn was only too aware of how lucky that was. He briefly wondered what had happened to his mother, and drew a sigh that quickly faded into a hacking cough.

Daddy? Are you okay?

I'm fine, Summer, he said, coughing once more. Sorry I woke you.

It's okay.

You want some breakfast?

Yeah.

Finn got up and restarted the fire, burning pieces of rafters that had fallen from the ceiling a long time ago. Summer wrapped her arms around her knees and looked around the cavernous room. What is this place? she asked.

See that cross up there? That means it's a church.

Summer frowned at the unfamiliar word. A church?

Yeah, Finn said as he opened a package of stale biscuits. People used to come here to talk to God.

Who's God?

He…he's like a really close friend. He helps you when you're down and tries to keep you on the right path.

Are we on the right path?

I hope so.

Finn handed her some biscuits.

Do you ever talk to God? she asked.

Sometimes. If I'm scared or if I think you're going to get hurt.

Does he talk back?

No.

Then why do you talk to him?

Finn shrugged, shifting his position on the cold floor and draping an arm around her. Sometimes it's just nice to feel like there someone watching out for us.

Even if there isn't?

What makes you think that? Of course there is. We're still alive, aren't we?

Summer turned her gaze toward the fire and rested her chin on her arms. I don't believe in God.

* * *

After Summer had finished her portion of breakfast, Finn told her to collect more firewood from the rubble strewn across the floor of the church. She returned with an armload of broken planks and a book, which she handed to Finn.

Daddy, what is that?

He frowned at the cover, which was black leather with only a bronzed crossed set in the center. Where'd you find this? he asked.

It was under that broken bench over there. It doesn't look like other books.

It doesn't? Noah asked from where he sat finishing his breakfast.

Finn opened the book to the middle, his eyebrows rising. She's right, he said. It's a book of hymns.

Hymns? Summer asked.

They were special songs that people would sing at church, Finn explained, leafing through the yellowed pages.

What do those lines of dots mean?

Those are music notes – they tell you how high or low to sing.

Summer pointed to a page. Do this one.

Well, it's been a long time since I read music, Summer… I'm not sure I remember how.

Let me see it, Noah said, wiping his mouth of biscuit crumbs and holding out his hand. Summer gave the book to him. Which one did you want?

This one.

Okay, let me think.

Noah frowned in concentration at the progression of notes along the lines printed on the page. It felt strange, remembering something not because he needed to in order to make it to the next day, but just because he wanted to remember. He hadn't needed this skill in so long he wasn't even sure he still had it, but gradually, the dots and lines began to mean something.

I think it goes something like this... He hummed the melody, following the notes as closely as he could. Does that sound nice?

Yeah.

Here, can you read the words?

Summer crouched beside him, leaning against his side so they could look at the book together. A-as I… she started, squinting at the small letters printed below the notes. As I went—

As I went down, that's right, Noah encouraged her.

As I went down in...the...the...

River.

...river...

Noah nodded, smiling. That's good, keep going.

As I went down in the river to... pray, she finished, running her finger over the words. I know this song.

You do?

Yeah, Mommy used to sing it to me.

Noah didn't miss the stiffening in Finn's shoulders at the mention of the girl's mother, but he said nothing on the subject.

Noah, will you sing it? Please?

No, Finn cut in abruptly as he packed their blankets into the supply bags.

But, Daddy—

I'm sorry, Summer, but it's late already. We need to find more food. There's no time for singing. Now, get Noah his crutches please.

Summer pouted as she went to fetch the crutches from where they leaned against the wall, and then helped Noah up to a standing position. As they put out the fire, Finn strapped a supply bag to Noah's back and hefted the other two over his shoulders. Noah and Summer headed out to the street, and Finn, casting a final look over their campsite to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, picked up the hymnal and quietly slipped it into his bag.

* * *

As the sky grew brighter overhead and noon approached, the three of them set out once again to hunt for food and supplies. Summer hugged close to Finn's side, trying not to look at the shrunken corpses lining the streets. Noah limped along a step behind them, keeping his eyes on the ground underfoot so as to not catch his crutches on the cracked pavement. Suddenly, Finn stopped short in his tracks, pushing Summer behind him.

What is it? Noah asked, sensing that something was wrong.

There's someone up ahead.

Finn pulled the pistol out of his belt, holding it at the ready as Noah squinted in the ashen sunlight. A dark silhouette was slowly making its way towards them, limping slightly to one side.

Come on, Finn said, ushering Summer off the street and into the shadow of an abandoned car. Noah quickly hobbled after them, crouching behind the hood. Finn craned his neck over the car's roof, watching the figure as it drew closer. A soft metallic rattling sound reached their ears.

What's that noise, Daddy?

He's pushing a cart.

Who is he?

I don't know. Shh.

I'm scared.

It's okay. Here, go sit with Noah.

Summer did as she was told as Finn pulled back the hammer of the gun, his legs tensing.

What are you gonna do? Noah asked under his breath.

Whatever's necessary.

As the person neared them, Finn saw that it was in fact a woman, her dirty grey hair hanging in matted cords around her wrinkled face. He could tell by the way she moved that she was riddled with arthritis, and she was using the cart mainly for support. Instead of shoes, her feet were bundled in layers upon layers of ratty cloth, and she wore a thick coat with a large hole torn in the shoulder. They could hear her mumbling strings of rambling words as she walked, and it soon became clear that she couldn't have been dangerous if she'd tried. Finn let the hammer of the gun back down, his shoulders relaxing. Still, the three of them stayed hidden, watching her pass with wary eyes.

She's going the wrong way, Summer whispered. Shouldn't we help her, Daddy?

Finn didn't respond.

I'm comin' home, Eli, they heard the woman promise to the wind. I'm comin' home.

* * *

A/N: Please, please review. It really is very important to me to get good, constructive feedback on this story in particular, and any reviews would be appreciated.


	14. Chapter 14

Once the old woman had disappeared from view, Finn helped Noah back onto his crutches and the three of them continued on their way. All day, they found no food, and their water had run out, so by the time the sun began to set they were close to collapsing. Summer stumbled and fell and Finn picked her up and carried her for another half hour before Noah finally said, Finn, we have to stop.

Finn sighed. Fine. I guess we'll have to hold out until tomorrow.

They looked up at the surrounding buildings in the waning light and tried to decide which would be best to sleep in. Let's go in there, Finn said, hefting Summer onto his other hip and heading towards a hotel with several letters from its sign missing. Inside, it was almost completely dark. Finn fumbled his way through the shadows until he found one of the couches in the lobby and laid Summer down. He set the supply bags on the floor beside her and told her to try to get some sleep.

Are you going somewhere? Noah asked, shifting his weight back and forth from one arm to the other to ease off his sore foot.

I'm gonna go see what I can find in the kitchen. Even if there's no food, there's bound to be some tools that we could use.

You have to go now?

Finn nodded. I'll be fine. Just give me the matches and I'll be back soon.

Okay, Noah acquiesced and handed him the box of matches from his pocket.

Stay with her, Finn said, gesturing to Summer, who was already in a deep sleep. Noah nodded and hobbled over to the couch, sitting with a grunt next to her feet. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Finn pulled a match out of the box and struck it so that a soft orange glow suddenly filled the surrounding darkness. The lobby was luckily small enough so that Finn could see the elevators from where he stood, and beside it on the wall was a list of locations within the building and directions. As the match sputtered out, Finn walked in the direction of the elevators until he found the wall and then lit another match so that he could read the sign. He followed the dusty arrow pointing to the ballroom, feeling his way along the corridors and wishing he had a flashlight. Eventually, he found the large double doors to the massive dance hall and pushed through them, striking another match once they'd swung shut behind him. The tiny flame lit only a small fraction of the room, but he could see a few tables tipped over, the plates and glasses that had been sitting on them shattered on the floor. He silently sent a prayer of thanks towards the ceiling that there were no corpses that he could see, and began to walk towards the smaller door on the other side of the hall, his hand shielding the still-burning match. Behind the door, Finn only caught a glimpse of several metal surfaces before the match died; he tossed it aside and lit another. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he'd found the kitchen. Shivering in the dusty air, he made his way over to a thick metal door with a large handle and pulled it open, hoping that it was the food storage. As the light from the dying match filtered into the small room, Finn's eyes widened and the breath left his lungs in a _whoosh_ of air.

Oh, my God.

* * *

Noah. Noah, wake up. Noah!

Noah snorted awake, his eyes flying open in the darkness.

Come with me.

Finn, come on, it's the middle of the night. I'm trying to sleep, and you should do the same.

Noah! Finn snapped.

What!

Come with me now. You'll thank me.

Noah sighed and heaved himself up onto his crutches, following Finn through the maze of dark hallways until they came to the kitchen door. Finn pushed through and held it open for Noah, striking another match so that Noah could move around the counters and stoves without falling. On the other side of the kitchen, Finn yanked open the large metal door and gestured inside, holding the match up so Noah could see. Look, he said.

The shelves inside were stocked completely full. There were cans upon cans of fruit, vegetables, sauces, and soups. Huge blocks of cheeses were stacked on top of one another and there were large hunks of meat preserved in plastic. Boxes of cereals and other dried goods lined the top shelves.

The match died and the food disappeared.

Holy… Noah started.

There's two more rooms exactly like this, Finn said.

You're kidding.

Nope.

Oh my God.

And then Finn laughed, clapping Noah on the shoulder and smiling wider than he'd smiled in a very long time.

* * *

In the morning, after they'd contented themselves with the food from the storage rooms, Finn took the bandages off of Noah's amputated leg to examine it.

I don't think this is healing, he said solemnly. The skin's not growing back fast enough.

Noah sighed. Figures. Nothing heals as fast any more. At least it's not bleeding.

I think we need to cauterize it. You probably wouldn't survive another infection.

Noah's lips tightened. Fine. Do what you need to do.

What does that mean? Summer asked from where she sat next to Noah, watching Finn study the remaining stump.

It means that we have to—

Finn cut Noah off, quickly saying, It just means that we help him heal.

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Finn stood up. Summer, why don't you go see if you can find somewhere we can take a bath.

Okay. Summer hopped off the couch and headed for the stairwell.

Once she was out of earshot, Noah sighed. You know, she can handle more than you give her credit for.

I know she can. Doesn't mean I want her to.

We're not always gonna be around to protect her—

Don't.

—and she should be prepared for that.

You're not the parent here. Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do where Summer's concerned.

And before Noah could respond, Finn yanked him up onto his crutches and began to stride towards the kitchen. Noah sighed and limped after him.

In the kitchen, Finn turned on one of the gas burners and lit it with a match, and Noah heaved himself up so he could sit on the counter, leaning his crutches beside him. Finn pulled a large knife out of a drawer and held the blade in the flame, waiting until the edges began to glow a soft red.

Okay. You ready?

Noah swallowed and gripped the edges of the counter. Do it.

Finn exhaled slowly, grasping the hot knife tightly in his hand. Sorry about this, he said.

Just do it.

Noah held his breath, his whole body tensing. When the flat of the searing hot blade pressed against the raw flesh of his amputated leg, he gritted his teeth and tried not to release a scream. There was an awful, sizzling hiss, and foul-smelling smoke rose up from where the metal was burning into his exposed muscles. Finn's face was stone hard as he concentrated on holding what remained of Noah's leg in place and sealing off the vulnerable blood vessels, nerves and tendons. Tears streamed from Noah's eyes as he poured all his energy into not crying out in pain.

Almost done, Finn said. Just hold on a little longer.

Eventually, the knife was taken away and placed to the side and Finn began to carefully wrap the bandages back around Noah's leg. Noah let out a shuddering breath, clenching his jaw against the still-present pain, and tried to focus on keeping his breathing even.

You okay? Finn asked, tying the bandage.

Yeah, Noah clenched out, wiping his face with a shaking hand. Yeah, I'm good. Let's go find Summer.

* * *

A/N: *sigh* Poor Noah. Please review!


	15. Chapter 15

Finn was bent over the industrial-sized sink in the hotel's kitchen where Summer was crouched in the soapy water, washing her hair. They'd collected the water from the rain that had fallen the day before and then heated it on the gas stove. It was a rare treat – they'd only been able to bathe three or four times a year since it had first happened, and none of them had had a hot bath since before then. It was also a rare treat for them to have soap – Summer had discovered a supply closet on the hotel's second floor that was stocked full of miniature bottles of shampoo and body wash, and now there was a heap of them on the counter beside the sink.

Daddy? Summer said as Finn lathered the shampoo into her hair.

What?

How long are we going to live?

I don't know. For a while, though. A long while.

How do you know?

I just do.

That doesn't make any sense. Ow!

You have to keep your eyes closed.

It tastes gross.

Keep your mouth closed too. It's not food.

Using a metal mixing bowl, Finn poured water over Summer's head until the soap was out of her hair, then had her stand up so that he could rinse her off completely. He lifted her out of sink and wrapped her tightly in one of the blankets they'd taken from the hotel rooms. Her teeth chattered. You okay? he asked. She nodded shakily.

Okay, good. Finish drying off and then get dressed.

He gave her nose a tweak and then stripped his shirt off, revealing stretched waxy skin that was grey with the buildup of dirt, ash, and bodily oils, a sickly shade that was made worse by the years of malnutrition. The color of his skin looked even more unhealthy when paired with the contours of his jutting hips, ribs, vertebrae, shoulder blades, and clavicles. His chest was so sunken that each bump on his breastbone was visible through the thin layer of flesh, and the tendons constantly stood out on his neck. His arms were so thin at this point that he could easily wrap his hand around his bicep and touch his forefinger to his thumb.

He splashed water across his torso, scrubbing the dirt out of his pores as well as he could with his palms. The water had cooled down considerably by this point, and he began to shake with the cold before long. The slight movement made his lungs hitch in his chest and he turned his head to cough off to the side.

* * *

Noah woke with a start in the middle of the night, and for a moment forgot where he was. It was pitch black in the hotel lobby, and the only sounds were Finn's light snores from the other couch and the faint sound of a breeze outside. Noah sighed and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders, closing his eyes and willing his body to go back to sleep.

Noah? came a small voice from across the room. Are you awake?

Yeah. What is it, Summer?

There was a rustling as Summer climbed off the couch she was sharing with Finn and came to stand next to Noah. Daddy doesn't sound right, she said.

What do you mean?

He's breathing funny.

Noah frowned, staring at the faint silhouette of the small girl in the dark. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the couch arm, heaving himself up onto them and then swaying in place for a moment until he was sure he had his balance. He hobbled behind Summer to Finn's couch and stood over him for a moment, listening.

Summer was right. It was difficult to hear at first, but Finn's lungs were definitely straining to open all the way. His breath was hissing in his throat slightly, hitching every few minutes. Finn coughed and rolled over, oblivious to his companions' concerns.

Is he okay? Summer whispered.

I'm sure it's just a cold.

Summer said nothing.

Are you hungry?

No.

Okay, you should probably go back to sleep.

Can I sleep with you?

Sure.

* * *

Only a few hours later, Summer shook Noah's shoulder. Noah! Noah! Wake up! she whispered.

He groaned and kept his eyes closed. What, Summer?

There's something outside.

At that, Noah's eyes snapped open, and his heart jumped as he realized that it was no longer pitch black in the lobby, despite the fact that his body was telling him that it was still the middle of the night. There were shafts of milky white light coming in through the dusty glass doors, spilling across the floor and illuminating the dark shapes of furniture.

What is that? Summer hissed. Noah said nothing, his eyes wide in the dim light. He reached again for his crutches and pulled himself up, limping quickly towards the door.

Noah! Summer whimpered, hesitating before trotting after him. She peered out from behind him, warily staring at the street outside as it was glowing softly in the light.

He shoved the door open with his shoulder, hobbling outside and looking upwards. The breath left his lungs in a single _whoosh_.

What is that? Summer asked again, staring up at the sky with him and clutching his arm in apprehension.

Noah's face broke into a smile. It's the moon, he said.

Miles overhead, the upper atmosphere winds had finally cut a hole through the thick ash cloud and revealed a small patch of clear, unpolluted sky. The moon was almost full, and several stars winked behind it.

Only a few seconds later, the ash and smog covered up the hole, and they were once again thrown into darkness.

Why does it glow like that? Summer asked in awe, her voice floating in the shadows.

I'm not sure.

I saw a face.

Me too.

Was that always there?

The moon or the face?

Both.

As far as I know, yeah.

So it was always light?

Yeah, sort of.

I wish there was more light now. I hate the dark.

Me too.

Summer shivered next to him. Can we go back inside now?

Yeah. Come on.

* * *

Noah didn't sleep for the rest of the night, sitting stiffly on the couch with Summer until the ashen morning sunlight began to shine through the front doors and slowly but surely illuminate the room. Summer was in a deep sleep on the cushions next to him and didn't show signs of waking any time soon. Finn woke just after dawn, shaken awake by a violent coughing fit.

Are you okay? Noah asked.

Finn sat up but didn't answer for several seconds as he hacked into the crook of his elbow, his face turning red. Yeah, he wheezed eventually. I'm fine. He sniffed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Uh, Finn?

What?

Noah gestured to the corner of his mouth. You might want to clean that off.

Finn swallowed and hastily wiped the droplets of blood off his cheek, then stood up and stretched, glancing out the front doors. I gotta take a piss, he said. I'll be right back.


	16. Chapter 16

They stayed in the abandoned hotel for weeks, relishing in the safety and comfort that the walls provided. It was the one time for as long as they could remember where they were clean, full, and happy. They were even able to wash their clothes and find new ones in the hotel's laundry room. After a few days of sleeping in the lobby, they moved up to the first floor and stayed in one of the rooms with two double beds and jumped on the mattresses until they were laughing so hard that their ribs ached. Even Finn's coughing fits subsided for awhile; his immune system boosted by his full stomach.

I want to stay here forever, said Summer one night as she was falling asleep next to Finn.

Finn smiled and replied that they would stay for as long as she wanted.

Noah cast him a look from the other bed. Both men knew that they'd have to move on sooner or later, but at least for the time being, they didn't have to worry. It was an unusual feeling.

One morning when it was Noah's turn to gather breakfast from the kitchen storerooms, Finn and Summer climbed up the stairwell next to the broken-down elevators all the way up to the roof, and stared out over the empty city.

People made _all_ of this? Summer asked in awe.

Yeah. Cool, isn't it?

What was it like when there were more people?

Um… it was light all the time, because there were always people who were awake, even in the middle of the night, and the streets were always packed with cars. You could always find music playing somewhere, in the park or at a club.

Have I ever been to a park?

Once, when you were a baby. We all camped out in a park for a couple nights.

Who's we?

Your mom and I, Rachel, and Tina.

Summer fell quiet, leaning on the edge of the roof and looking down at the crumbling buildings. I miss them, she said.

Finn gave her a smile and pulled her up onto his hip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shivered in the cold breeze.

There's something I never told you, Daddy.

Yeah? What was it?

I found Rachel.

Finn stared at her for a moment. What do you mean?

When she disappeared and you, Mommy, and Tina went looking for her. I know I was supposed to stay by the fire, but I followed you and I saw Rachel. She was hurt and she couldn't walk. I wanted to help her but she told me to leave her there.

Finn sniffed and gave Summer a kiss on the cheek. It's okay, he said. I saw her too.

You don't have to protect me, Daddy.

Yeah, I do.

Summer's gaze abruptly turned back to the city sprawled out below them. What's that noise?

Finn put her down and leaned over the edge of the roof, listening with his ears cocked against the breeze. Far off in the distance was the growl of a massive engine, the rumbling belly of a monster crawling through the streets towards them.

Summer, go downstairs and stay with Noah.

What about you?

I'll keep a lookout.

What is it?

I'm not sure. Go on.

I want to stay with you.

Finn gripped her by the shoulders. I need to know that you're safe. Go downstairs. Now.

Summer spun and disappeared back through the maintenance door as Finn shielded his eyes against the almost-nonexistent sunlight, squinting into the distance. There were too many buildings in the way; he couldn't see the machine that was creating the awful rumbling, but several blocks away he could see a thin cloud of smoke wafting up from a street. He remained where he was until the source of the smoke finally crawled into sight several blocks away, belching black exhaust into the air. It was a heavy truck, with a snowplow fitted onto the front and a flatbed where Finn could make out several dirty figures hunched together, their legs hanging off the sides. There were also a few figures walking alongside the truck, as if they were scouting ahead. Finn squinted even further, trying to see them more clearly, and swore under his breath when he saw that each one of them was carrying a rifle twice the size of Noah's shotgun. And since Noah had lost the shotgun the night Tina died, they were left with only Finn's pistol and three bullets to defend themselves.

He didn't wait to see any more, rushing back down the stairwell and descending all fifteen stories in only a couple of minutes. He found Noah and Summer in the kitchen. We gotta go, he said.

Where?

Upstairs somewhere. There's a lot of people outside, and they don't look friendly.

Noah and Summer immediately followed Finn into the corridor and kept only a step behind him until they reached the stairwell.

Summer, I want you to go up to the third floor and find a room at the front of the building, okay? It's best if one of the windows are broken, so we can hear what's happening outside. Can you do that?

Summer nodded and scampered up the stairs as Finn turned his attention to Noah, taking the crutches and pulling one of Noah's arms around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around Noah's middle and helping him slowly move from one step to the next.

We have to move faster, Noah.

I'm trying.

Try harder.

Why don't you try chopping off your leg and then climbing two flights of stairs, huh?

Just focus, okay?

Finn's breath was beginning to hiss in his throat from the strain of nearly carrying the shorter but bulkier man up the stairs, and on the landing of the second floor several minutes later, they had to stop for a moment and wait for his coughing fit to subside. He hacked one last time into his hand and wiped the blood off his palm with his coat sleeve.

You okay? asked Noah, watching him warily.

I'm fine, Finn snapped, grabbing Noah around the middle again and shoving him towards the next flight of stairs.

They finally reached the third floor wheezing and panting, and Finn handed Noah back his crutches before leaning against the wall for a minute to breathe, the air straining through his lungs like a sieve.

Are you sure you're okay?

Quit worrying about me and start worrying about the men outside with shotguns.

Over here! called Summer from down the hall.

Finn straightened up, wincing, and followed a step behind Noah as he hobbled along the corridor. Inside the room, Noah sank onto the dusty bed and Finn peered out through the broken windowpane. Summer hugged his side, trembling slightly.

After a few slow minutes, a few shouts wafted up from the street below, and Finn tensed, swearing under his breath.

What is it? said Noah.

They're coming in.

Crap.

Are they going to find us? Summer asked, looking up at Finn.

Finn shook his head. No, he said. Even if they come upstairs, they'll only go to the second floor and they won't search all the rooms. We're safe here.

But even as he spoke, Finn was pulling his pistol out of his belt and checking to make sure it was loaded before turning back to the window. Okay, he said a moment later. There's five guys in the building. The rest are staying with the truck.

We only have three bullets, Noah said.

Finn patted his jacket's inside pocket. We still have the hatchet.

Noah didn't bother to say that a small hatchet against two men with shotguns (and it would only be two if Finn hit his mark every single time) would never be a gamble in their favor – Finn knew it already, but there were straws to be grasped.

What are they looking for? Summer asked. Do they know we're here?

No, Noah said quickly. They're just looking for food.

We have lots of food – can't we give them some?

Finn shook his head, still looking down at the street. If we give them only some of it, then they'll kill us and take it all. Better to take the chance that they won't find it.

It's a hotel, Finn. There's only one place where food would be stocked, said Noah.

I know.

* * *

They remained where they were for what felt like hours, Finn finally stepping away from the window to sit in the dusty armchair by the bed, still keeping his gun at the ready. None of them spoke, constantly listening for any footsteps or voices in the hallway, but it was silent until all of a sudden, the engine of the massive truck roared awake again, and Finn peered back down at the road and breathed a sigh of relief. They're leaving, he said.

Can you see if they found the food?

Finn shook his head. I don't see anything. We'll wait until they've turned the corner, then we'll go down and look.

It took an achingly long time for the slow-moving truck to disappear from view five blocks away. Once it had, Finn helped Noah descend the stairs again, with Summer following behind and carrying Noah's crutches. At last, they reached the ground floor, set Noah back onto his crutches, and hurried to the kitchen, all three of them holding their breath. Finn opened the doors to the storerooms, his shoulders falling and his breath leaving his lungs in a choked hiss, though whether the sound was from sadness or an oncoming coughing fit, Noah couldn't tell.

Finn shut the doors again. They took it, he said. They took it all.

* * *

A/N: Please leave a review :)


End file.
